


The Green Vial

by A_Stressed_Cupcake



Category: Rusty Lake | Cube Escape (Video Games)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Gen, Green Vial Ending, Letters, My First Work in This Fandom, Poor Dale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22945081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Stressed_Cupcake/pseuds/A_Stressed_Cupcake
Summary: Laura doesn't remember what happened.All she knows is that she crawled out of a lake and that the doctors are keeping something from her.
Relationships: Laura Vanderboom & Dale Vandermeer
Comments: 30
Kudos: 40





	The Green Vial

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after the green vial ending of Cube Escape Paradox

They'd asked her many times what she remembered. It was getting increasingly frustrating to answer with each passing minute, because it was clear that she had the answers, right? Except she didn't.

_ “What is your name?” _

She pressed the pencil against her cheek.

Was it… Lisa? Lorna? No.

_ “Laura.” _

“Your  _ full _ name, Laura.”

She begrudgingly took her eyes off her sketch.

“Laura Vanderm- no. My name is… Laura… Van… you’re sure it’s not Vandermeer?”

“It’s not Vandermeer, Laura.”

“It’s the only name I can remember.”

“Hm. We’ll get back to that. Now, your surname. Try again.”

Laura sighed. She was sure it was at least  _ similar _ to Vandermeer, but that wasn’t too restrictive. Her eyes fell to her page. 

Something clicked when she saw the trees framing her sketch. 

_ Van...der… _

_ “Vanderboom.” _

The doctor smiled. 

“You’re doing very well, Miss Vanderboom.”

She nodded. 

When the doctor left, she tried to go back to her sketch. Except… there was nothing to get back to. The sketch was finished.

A drawing of what she recognised as the place she'd dragged herself out of the water not two days prior. Dark trees framed the calm waters of the lake in a way that may have been almost peaceful to anyone else, but that sent a shiver up Laura's spine. They'd found her there, crawling out of the lake with _ something _ clutched tightly in her hands. They'd also found something else.

The nurses hadn't told her exactly what it was, but God forbid a Vanderboom be stopped by a simple withdrawal of information.

That was the other thing. She understood they were withdrawing information from her, but she wasn't quite sure why. Weren't amnesiacs usually told at least what happened to them? She was dying to know.

The last thing that bothered her was perhaps the most aggravating. The man.

He wasn't a strange man, per se. Quite the opposite. He looked older than her, with little strands of white poking through his dark hair and a scruffy beard. She never got a good look at his eyes, because he never stayed long, but she was fairly certain they were a dark and tired brown. He was dressed in perfectly normal clothing, if maybe a bit old-fashioned. 

So what was strange about him?

Well, the fact that he appeared in mirrors seemed like a good start. And the fact no one else could see him. The way he appeared almost casually in her sketches, like a sentient, but inhuman being taking a stroll through her papers. 

All of that was exactly why Laura decided to investigate.

They locked her room at night, but Laura had taken a bit of an interest in strategy as a kid that had never quite left, so a locked door wasn't going to stop her. 

A locked window may have, but the nurses had greatly underestimated her. It was only the second floor, after all. 

Okay, so the nurses had underestimated her, but maybe she had overestimated herself. She  _ had _ crawled out of a lake two days prior, after all. As she clung to the cracks between the bricks for dear life, she mentally reprimanded herself for not thinking about that sooner. 

"Come on…" she whispered to herself as her stretched fingers brushed the top of the windowsill, “Come on, Laura…”

Finally, her foot found a higher spot to push herself up: “Yes!!” she exclaimed, finally reaching a solid climbing spot. The window, once again, was open to relieve the summer heat, but the doctor’s office was empty of life. It was all but empty of things, though, as Laura soon realized. The closet and lockers in the room were full of different items, possibly belonging to other patients, judging by the variety. There was one, in particular, that stood out to her. 

Laura reached for it gingerly, brushing the ruined brown corduroy sleeve. It was nothing special. A little old-fashioned, maybe, but a jacket that could have easily belonged to any well-dressed man. The only strange thing about it was that it looked somewhat ruined. like it hadn’t been washed properly. Like it had been soaked with cold water and left to crumple up and dry. 

Almost like it had been pulled out of a lake.

Laura grabbed the jacket by its lapels, trying to straighten it out. How could such a common item of clothing feel so weirdly familiar to her? 

As she tried to flatten one of the pockets, she heard a little crackle of paper within.

The letter she found was somehow intact. Unlike the jacket, it didn't look like it had been in a lake.

_ Dear Laura,  _ it read,

_ We don't know each other. Well, you don't know me, anyway. I'd like to think that I've been getting to know you at least a little in the years when I've investigated your mysterious death. I know you stopped at the last line for a moment. I know you probably don't remember anything. In case you're still reading, and somehow not completely reeling from what I just told you, I should add that it's very important to me that you know what happened that day you were found at Rusty Lake.  _

_ To put it simply… I traded places with you. I wouldn't have it any other way. My choices were limited, but never gone. Laura, you probably don't remember me at all. I pray that you do. You were a quiet, but ever present part of my life for years, a part of my life which I cursed at times but which, looking back, I cherish. Because it gave me purpose. Looking back on your history, I'm sure you know what it's like to feel so out of place that you feel like you should just… leave. I know it will be difficult but, if possible, I want to do for you what you did for me. _

_ Let this be a lesson: you have purpose. And it's not being sacrificed to a damn lake. I came across some of your documents, your house. Your medicines. I see you like puzzles. Drawing, maybe? Were those sketches yours?  _

_ Either way, you left an impression on my long and strange life that I may never forget. You didn't get a choice. It wasn't fair. So that is what I'm giving you. _

_ I've made my choices already, Laura. Too many of them. Now I'm giving you one, too: you can come back to the lake, let yourself be erased. Or you can take the life you have and do something with it. I feel old, Laura. I did a lot of things with my life. You had more to offer than what you were able to give. _

_ I don't know why I'm taking so long to write a letter for a woman I never really met. But I like to think that, if only we could have existed at the same time, we may have been friends. If only we could have met, I should say, since you're really only five years younger than I am.  _

_ I'm dragging this out, I know. I just wanted to make sure you knew everything important.  _

_ You still have a life ahead of you, Laura Vanderboom. If I may ask you one thing, it's that you live it.  _

_ I have to go now.  _

_ If I may be granted the honor to call myself that, I will sign: _

_ Your friend, _

_ Dale Vandermeer _

A tear sprang at the corner of her eye, unnoticed.

Laura Vanderboom remembered.

**Author's Note:**

> Hot take: they would have been friends. Fight me. (Don't fight me, I'm sensitive)
> 
> This fandom is honestly too small :,)  
> I feel like there is a goldmine of a storyline behind Rusty Lake games.
> 
> If you're reading this, do leave a comment, because this fandom is so tiny and we gotta do something about that.
> 
> -Cass


End file.
